


How Couldn't I Find You Beautiful?

by AbschaumNo1



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, mostly implied but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbschaumNo1/pseuds/AbschaumNo1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre was the first to tell him that he was beautiful</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Couldn't I Find You Beautiful?

Combeferre had been an anchor for Grantaire for a long time. Where Enjolras was sharp rebuke and harsh words, Combeferre had tried to calm the waves and had listened to Grantaire’s rants and answered accordingly. Where most people tended to reduce Grantaire to drinking, cynicism and art, Combeferre had looked past that and made an effort to really get to know him.

Of course not everyone in their circle of friends had the limited view of Grantaire that Enjolras had, but most of them had problems getting past the walls Grantaire had built up around himself. Combeferre was one of those who made an effort and succeeded in getting to know him.

Grantaire wasn’t even sure how it happened exactly; his best guess was that  it was at some point between lengthy discussions of philosophy, the classics, books and theatre, and Combeferre bringing him home after the occasional drunk night at the Musain. It was Combeferre who made sure that he didn’t end in a back alley somewhere when Enjolras had been too harsh again. It was Combeferre who dragged him off to the theatre because he had heard they had this interesting approach to a play and Grantaire had to see it (the concern because Grantaire had looked like he was about to have one of his really bad days remained unspoken. The important thing was to get Grantaire’s mind off it). It was Combeferre who understood his excitement about his newest discovery at the library. It was also Combeferre who came over with food, because he had this or that point he wanted Grantaire’s input on.

It was Combeferre who truly valued Grantaire’s opinion; who valued Grantaire and (along with Jehan) made sure that their friends (including Enjolras) really turned up for his first art show. (It wasn’t that they wouldn’t come, it was more that some of them were prone to forgetting about it or said they had better things to do (the look Combeferre had given Enjolras when he had said that was one none of them _ever_ wanted to face. Combeferre was terrifying when he was angry).)

Somewhere along the line Combeferre had become one of Grantaire’s closest friends and somewhere on their way to that point Grantaire had learned to trust him.

It could have ended there; come to a standstill, a status quo established and no need to proceed further. But it didn’t.

Discussions about philosophy had turned into conversations about everything and nothing a long time ago. Grantaire knew Combeferre almost as well as Enjolras did (whose main advantage was probably the fact that they basically grew up with each other) and Combeferre knew Grantaire almost as well as Jehan did (who didn’t know him much longer than Combeferre did, but understood him like few people did and had a persistency in getting through to him that even fewer managed to hold up long enough).

On some of Grantaire’s worst days he felt like Combeferre was the steady rock he needed and that he was the only thing that could ground him. Of course there was the alcohol as well, there was always the alcohol, but sometimes it came with the bitter taste of failure and all it managed to do was making him feel disgusted at himself.

Those were the moments when he texted Combeferre and asked him to come over. He never quite understood how Combeferre always knew when Grantaire had asked simply because he wanted to show something to him and when it was urgent, but somehow he always did and he never failed to put down whatever it was that he was doing and came over to care for Grantaire.

Combeferre steadied him and didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He was just _there_ , providing comfort and a warm embrace when Grantaire needed it.

He was the first person to tell him that he was beautiful. It had been after an argument with Enjolras and Grantaire had already tried his best to get drunk when Combeferre had found him and sat down next to him. He hadn’t tried to tell Grantaire not to get drunk, he hadn’t said anything at all, he had only sat there next to him and waited for him to let it out. And that was exactly what Grantaire did. He let out it his anger and frustration and rambled on about how he didn’t even know why he was still in love with Enjolras and how he should just forget it because how could Enjolras ever like someone as ugly as him. There was a pause in which he took a deep breath and Combeferre just looked at him for a moment before he said, “I don’t think you’re ugly.” Nothing more. Grantaire stared at him in shock and could only ask, “What?”

Combeferre’s expression didn’t change and there was the same serious look in his eyes when he repeated his words.

“I don’t think you’re ugly. In fact I think you’re quite beautiful.”

And Grantaire just couldn’t believe him. No one in their right mind would say that about him. He wasn’t beautiful. He just really wasn’t. He told Combeferre as much, but the other man simply smiled and said that he meant it. Grantaire shrugged and dismissed it again before he drained his drink and got up to go, Combeferre smiling at him with a hint of sadness as he followed him and made sure that he got safely home.

It was after another argument with Enjolras that Grantaire told Combeferre that he didn’t want to be in love with Enjolras, that he knew it wouldn’t lead to anywhere. But he also admitted that he thought he was nothing without it; that the only one being able to make him hope again was Enjolras, and that that was the reason why he held on to it. (He didn’t tell Combeferre that he was a close second.)

And Combeferre told him that he was more than that. Combeferre told him that he shouldn’t reduce himself to this, that he was so talented; he reminded him of their discussions, their visits to the theatre, how he could dance and sing and beat up Bahorel in a fight. And probably for the first time Grantaire almost believed him, because where Enjolras was an always raging fire, ever so close to igniting everything around him, Combeferre was the steady flame of a warm fireplace. (And maybe Grantaire was in love with him, but only maybe, because after all, what was he without his affection for Enjolras?)

But it was that particular conversation that managed to make Grantaire _think_. Because as much as he liked to dismiss what Combeferre had said, he was right. Maybe Grantaire couldn’t see how Combeferre could think of him as talented, but he did have a point when he pointed out how much Grantaire knew and how he had so many skills. And Grantaire knew it was unhealthy to make his self-worth so dependent on one man, but he had been hopeless for so long that he couldn’t help it. But the seed had been planted and it took time to grow but it was there and it waited.

It had almost been forgotten when Grantaire and Enjolras clashed again and Enjolras told him that he was incapable of believing or even dying.

Grantaire had calmly picked up his things and told him “You’ll see” as he went out. Combeferre found him two hours later in a bar, staring into an untouched glass of whiskey.

“You were right,” he told Combeferre, “I don’t have to reduce myself.”

Combeferre watched him in silence, knowing that he would have more to say. Grantaire looked up from his whiskey and Combeferre could see that he was calm despite the anger that was visible in his eyes. He had obviously thought this through.

“I will quit,” Grantaire finally declared, stone hard resolve replacing the anger. “I will quit and show him that he’s wrong. Because I’m better than this.” He gestured towards the drink.

“It will be hard,” Combeferre said and Grantaire nodded.

“I know. But it will be worth it.”

Combeferre reached out to take one of Grantaire’s hands.

“You know you can count on me, on all of us. We’ll be there when you need us.”

The smile on Grantaire’s face was genuine, but still guarded.

“Thank you. But I would like to keep the ones involved to a minimum. You and Jean, probably Joly and Bossuet. Not too many people.”

Combeferre nodded. “Do you want to tell them or should I do it?”

“I…I would be grateful if you could do it.”

“Of course I will.” Combeferre gave him a warm smile and got up, pulling Grantaire with him. “You’ll stay at my place tonight and first thing tomorrow morning we’ll go and clean up your flat.”

Grantaire nodded and followed him out into the warm summer night.

Combeferre texted Jehan and Joly when he had made sure that Grantaire had fallen asleep, telling them about Grantaire’s decision and asking them to meet them at Grantaire’s flat the next day. Both said immediately that they would be there (and after pondering it for a moment Combeferre told Joly to bring Bossuet as well, he would have difficulties to keep it from him anyways, so it was easier to involve him from the start).

Staying dry was hard, but Grantaire’s friends made sure that he was never alone through it. There was always at least one of them around to take care of him.

Two weeks into it Courfeyrac approached Combeferre and told him “I know what Grantaire’s doing.”

“Do you?” Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Courfeyrac replied with a nod, “and since he didn’t tell everyone I guess he doesn’t want us around. But you can tell him that we’re here if he needs us, and that we believe in him.”

Combeferre smiled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Grantaire smiled weakly when Combeferre passed the message on. “I should have known that he would figure it out. Tell him…that I say thank you.”

It took weeks until Grantaire was through the worst of it and by the end even Enjolras had realised that something was up. He didn’t ask though, probably deciding to talk to Combeferre later and then forgetting about it (it wasn’t like he was cold, or didn’t care; he was just way too focussed on other things).

When Grantaire finally returned to the Musain he was…different. He still was a cynic, and he still opposed Enjolras at every possible occasion, but his arguments were less arguments just to rile up Enjolras, but more helpfully showing where Enjolras was wrong or just too easily rebuked.

He looked better, too; less hollow and with more drive in him than before, happier. Combeferre was glad to see it.

They were sitting in a café together when Grantaire brought something up that Combeferre had almost forgotten.

“You said once that I was beautiful.” Grantaire seemed nervous as he picked up the croissant he had ordered and began to pick it apart.

Combeferre nodded. “I did. And I still think it.”

“I still don’t know why you would say that.”

“Maybe because I really think you are beautiful.”

“Yeah. But…how?”

Combeferre reached out to tilt Grantaire’s face up so he looked at him.

“Listen to me, Grantaire. You are beautiful because of who you are. What’s inside you is what matters and it makes you one of the most beautiful persons I have ever had the luck to meet. You’re intelligent, you’re talented and you’re a great person. Of course you are beautiful. Maybe it’s not the radiant kind of beauty that Enjolras has, but it is there nonetheless and in my eyes you outshine him by far, because of who you are and how strong you are.” He got up abruptly. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He didn’t tell Grantaire where he was headed as he lead him through the streets and over the campus towards the art building. One of Grantaire’s works was still on exhibit in the entrance hall and that was where Combeferre finally stopped.

“It’s the painting I made last year,” Grantaire remarked and Combeferre nodded.

“Yes, it is. And it’s still here. They haven’t taken it down or anything, because it’s good and they think it’s good enough to stay here, in the entrance hall. And look at the painting; everyone can see how much effort is in it. You took the time to work out the characteristics of every person in the painting and the details are amazing. You did that; with your own hands. And how couldn’t I find someone who looks at his friends with such a loving eye beautiful?”

“You’re…wow…I don’t know what I did expect but it certainly wasn’t this.” Grantaire looked at the painting for a moment before he turned to smile at Combeferre. “So you recognised what I painted.”

Combeferre smiled. “It’s hard to miss if you look right.”

“I should have expected you to see it. Nothing escapes you.”

Combeferre laughed. “If you think so. I’m fairly certain that there’s enough for me to miss.”

They left the building in easy silence, not paying attention to where their feet were taking them. They chatted about this and that until they found themselves of Combeferre’s door and neither could quite remember how they got there or when they even had decided to go this way. They were both silent for a moment, unsure how to proceed from here. In the end it was Grantaire who broke the silence.

“Thank you for today,” he said, squirming slightly, “I guess, I think I understand it now.”

Combeferre smiled down at him. “It was a pleasure to show you. And…” He hesitated, not quite sure if he should continue, but the expectant look on Grantaire’s face made him finish the sentence. “I think you’ve become even more beautiful since then, and it shows now.”

“I…” Grantaire didn’t know what to say. He fidgeted for a moment, emotions flickering through his eyes, before he let out an “oh, fuck it” and leaned up to kiss Combeferre.

Combeferre was…surprised, but not displeased, and when Grantaire tried to move away to break the kiss he followed him automatically, hands grasping his hips to pull him closer. Grantaire’s lips were dry and chapped, and they moved hesitantly against Combeferre’s, who responded with slightly more eagerness. He smelled the soft hint of Grantaire’s aftershave, mixed with the smell of paint and cigarettes, a mixture that was so very Grantaire that Combeferre wanted to commit it to memory and never forget it.

They broke away from each other when they needed air, but Combeferre didn’t let go of Grantaire. Instead he looked down at him, a soft smile playing around his lips as Grantaire tried to sort through his thoughts.

“That was…wow…” Grantaire said before giving up and just staring at Combeferre, who was still smiling.

“Do you want to come up?”

Grantaire nodded. “Yes…I think…If you want me to.”

“Yes, I do want you to.” Combeferre leaned down to press another kiss to Grantaire’s lips. “I really do. And if you want to you could stay for the night.”

“I…yes that sounds good.” Grantaire gave him a wide and happy smile, just as Combeferre kissed him again, smiling against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://abschaumno1.tumblr.com)


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